Year: 2006

Pieces Of Sky, Elite Hotel, Luxury Liner, Quarter Moon In A Ten Cent Town and Blue Kentucky Girl

As huge a star as Emmylou Harris is, and as long and varied as her career has been, her achievements still don’t get their due, in my mind. Because virtually every article or review about Harris, for 30 years now, casts her as a protégé of Gram Parsons (indeed, she often speaks of herself in that context) – but she’s so much more, and always has been.

Parsons, who died of a drug overdose in 1973 at the age of 26, pioneered country-rock and remains a huge cult figure. But in the early days of hippies doing country, whether it was Parsons’ Flying Burrito Brothers or the Byrds (of which he was briefly a member) or Commander Cody or Asleep At The Wheel, country audiences (and radio stations) wouldn’t give these acts the time of day; their audience was almost strictly a rock crowd.

When Harris, Parsons’ former backup singer, carried on his tradition, she mixed a more traditional brand of country than was coming out of Nashville with an eclectic blend of contemporary songs. And without resorting to anything that smacked of “crossover,” she achieved mass success with rock and country audiences alike. She was based in Los Angeles, instead of Nashville, and used primarily the same band in the studio as she took on the road. In many ways, she was the link between ’60s Bakersfield iconoclasts Buck Owens and Merle Haggard and Dwight Yoakam’s rise in the ’80s.

The reasons for her broad appeal can be found on Harris’ first five Warner Brothers/Reprise albums, recently expanded and reissued by Rhino. She possesses one of the country music’s (or pop’s) truly unique voices; her choice of material and interpretive skills are impeccable; and she surrounded herself with incredible, distinctive musicians – not to mention the perfect producer in Brian Ahern, who manned these five titles and six more during their prolific association.

Harris inherited the players who’d backed Parsons on G.P. and Grievous Angel, including several alumni of Elvis Presley’s band – pianist Glen D. Hardin, drummer Ronnie Tutt, and guitar legend James Burton – to record 1975’s Pieces Of Sky. The repertoire mixed material from the Louvin Brothers and Merle Haggard (“Tonight The Bottle Let Me Down,” with Burton’s Tele trading solos with Bernie Leadon’s Dobro) with Emmy’s own moving “Boulder To Birmingham,” newcomer Rodney Crowell’s “Bluebird Wine,” and a beautiful reading of the Beatles’ “For No One,” with Amos Garrett supplying his typically unexpected (but always perfect) bends.

By the time Elite Hotel was released at the end of that year, Harris’ Hot Band was a force to be reckoned with – as evidenced by the three live tracks included on the original LP, including a version of “Sweet Dreams” that matches the high standard set by Patsy Cline and Parsons’ “Ooh, Las Vegas,” featuring some spirited sparring between Burton’s chicken-pickin’ and Hank DeVito’s pedal steel. Elsewhere, Burton proves he can play the minimalist, on “Wheels” and “One Of These Days,” relying on a phase-shifter (I’m guessing a Mutron Bi-Phase) to fatten up his tone.

Whether Elite Hotel or 1976’s Luxury Liner was Harris’ high-water mark is a matter of taste. The former doesn’t have a weak track among its dozen, but the latter saw the addition of Ricky Skaggs (on fiddle and mandolin) and, more importantly, lead guitarist Albert Lee, who replaced Burton in the Hot Band. James still shows up – playing electric to Albert’s acoustic on “You’re Supposed To Be Feeling Good” – but Lee shows off his Parsons/White String Bender on Chuck Berry’s “You Never Can Tell” and burns down the house with Bender licks and plenty of slapback on the title track. And, again, there are great songs, like Townes Van Zandt’s “Pancho & Lefty.”

For 1978’s Quarter Moon In A Ten Cent Town, Emmylou made a conscious effort to concentrate on contemporary material. That may or may not be the reason, but the album is probably the weakest of the five in this batch – bearing in mind that the other four set the bar awfully high. The departure of Rodney Crowell could be another reason, although he appears on a couple of songs, including his classic-to-be, “Ain’t Living Long Like This” – with Lee’s splattering double-stops.

Harris closed out the decade with her truest country album to date. With Blue Kentucky Girl, she determined to stifle critics who attributed her success to her rock and pop leanings, and delivered a hardcore country album that remains a classic. Lee trades solos with Skaggs’ fiddle on “Sister’s Coming Home” (and Emmylou finally took advantage of Ricky’s harmony vocals on LP), and Burton shows his melodic side on “Everytime You Leave.”

Harris’ next album was an even bigger anti-establishment step, the all-acoustic Roses In The Snow, which presaged the success of the O Brother, Where Art Thou soundtrack by almost two decades. She eventually moved to Nashville, but continues to push her own limits and country music’s envelope as few artists in the genre’s history have. But this five-album run represents her dynasty years.

Rhino’s expanded versions of the albums contain two bonus tracks each, but in most cases the added material is not from the same period as the CD it’s grafted onto. For instance, Luxury Liner‘s bonus selections feature steel guitarist Steve Fishell, who replaced Hank DeVito in a later edition of the Hot Band, along with Don Heffington and Mike Bowden replacing John Ware and Emory Gordy on drums and bass, respectively, but no dates are given – on the album cuts or the bonus tracks. And Quarter Moon is padded out with two live tracks featuring Fishell, multi-instrumentalist Barry Tashian, and guitarist Frank Reckard, who replaced Albert Lee – again, with no information regarding when or where they came from. They’re great tracks, but considering Rhino chose to release these five albums (her ’70s output) simultaneously, they shake up the continuity – which Harris and Ahern were obviously meticulous about.

Billy Joe Shaver is one of the real good songwriters of his generation. His country and country-rock tunes have filled his fine albums and have been covered by countless others. His late son, Eddy, is the Kid referred to in the title of this record. Eddy was a fine guitarist who overdosed on New Year’s Eve in 2000. This record serves as tribute from a loving father, and a forum for Eddy’s talents.

There’s a mixture here. All cuts feature Eddy in some way, and show his versatility and ability as a guitarist. Some unexpected, but quite welcome, metal-esque guitar lays the groundwork for fine slide by Eddy on “Lighting a Torch.” Eddy’s blues leanings pop up more than a few times. The funky rocker “Baptism of Fire” features him in a trio, live in a club, and he cooks. His vocals also prove a pleasant surprise, calling to mind Gregg Allman. “Necessary Evil” is a slow blues that features Eddy solo. You need listen no further to hear what a fine player he was.

Several cuts are Eddy with his dad that let you know he was at home in the country idiom, too. After all, this is the guy who filled the guitar chair in Dwight Yoakam’s band when Pete Anderson didn’t tour. “Eagle on the Ground” is one of those country ballads that stick in your brain forever. Great fills and a fine Eddy vocal.

There are 11 cuts here, and they all work at some level. Billy and the Kid is a fine tribute to a player who left us too early. It’s also a nice way for a father to say goodbye to his son and let everyone know what they lost.

The logical followup to the Lindley/Ingram Twango Bango studio CDs, this live counterpart features even better sound quality – with more definition, hotter drums, and fuller bass without sounding muddy. As for the playing, it hardly needs to be restated that David Lindley is the master of all things stringed, and Wally Ingram is the one of the few drummers who can match him bang for twang. Lamar Sorrento’s cover painting, depicting the pair with about six arms each, plucking and beating various instruments, is fitting because that’s what these two sound like. And if you ever thought studio trickery was involved in their efforts, this puts such suspicions to rest.

All of the songs here have been featured on previous discs, but since Lindley has as much music in his head as he has instruments in his arsenal, he seems to approach the material fresh every time. The repertoire ranges from Professor Longhair, New Orleans rumba (“Her Mind Is Gone”) to up-the-road zydeco (“Bon Ton Roulet”) – both played on Weissenborn slide – to Hookeresque boogie (“When a Guy Gets Boobs”), played on electric oud.

“Meti’s Reel” is the kind of amalgam of Celtic and Middle Eastern influences only Mr. Dave can conjure up – going beyond Sandy Bull’s groundbreaking excursions of the early ’60s (which is saying something). Similarly, the Appalachian/Middle Eastern “Little Sadie” is like falafel with a side of grits – resulting in an unexpectedly tasty delicacy.

But David and Wally wouldn’t merit their moniker of “The Beavis & Butthead of World Music” if they didn’t serve up a few songs as cheesy as their polyester garb, like “Catfood Sandwiches,” an ode/warning about backstage cuisine. I’m sure we can all relate to lines like, “We got the catfood sandwiches waiting for me backstage/And the woman who made ’em looks just like Jimmy Page.”

To get this, go to davidlindley.com or one of Lindley’s gigs. But don’t let the DIY aspect fool you; this is world-class stuff in every respect.

A live setting is the perfect place for Parris to show his stuff. A versatile and unique guitarist, he has been around and done some major-label work in the past. Now releasing his stuff independently, it’s nice to hear him in a setting where he can shine.

It’s not easy to pigeonhole Parris. Jazz is one of the checkpoints, but then what do you make of the country stomper “Oblivion Express”? It’s full of Chet-style swirling guitar and chicken pickin’ that’ll have you cluckin’ along. In fact, country-style double stops show up a lot. Even in jazzy tunes. And they fit very nicely. “Ol’ Soul” lets him show off his flair for harmonies and bends. “Sister Sadie” is another stop on the “bend.” It’s a funk tune, but his two- and three-string bends fit perfectly. And that’s only part of the solo. Speaking of funk, “Sex Machine” wraps up the disc, and it’s airtight, pushed along by Gil’s jazzy soloing.

The highlight here is Parris’ version of Bill Withers’ “Ain’t No Sunshine,” which is a tour de force with a collection of licks and feels as astounding as anything you’ll hear.

Benoit has a feel and authenticity to his playing. His records always bring a smile of familiarity to my face when I first hear them, like an old coat that you haven’t worn since last winter. When you put it on, you remember everything you love about it.

That recognition means you won’t be surprised. “Night Train” is a good-old-fashioned blues-rock tune with a stomping solo from Tab. The electric country-blues of “Little Girl Blues” is made for his herky-jerky Tele playing. Anyone who knows Tab’s background understands you’ll hear some bayou music on his records. The title cut here is one of those Louisiana stompers. Check out the solo. Country meets the blues at a swampy crossroads. Great stuff. Fine chordal soloing and double-stops drive the soul of “Lost In Your Lovin’.” Louisiana makes an encore appearance on the Zydeco of “Golden Crown.” Tab turns the Freddie King chestnut “I Can’t Hold Out” into his own by switching it to a boogie. If you think Tab’s not a good blues player, check out the solo on that one.

If you, too, love that familiar feel, get this. A fine player and singer mixing country, blues, and zydeco into a fun Southern musical stew.

Anyone who had seen Emmanuel in concert or heard about his prodigious technique, then rushed out to buy his 2001 Favored Nations effort, Only, may have been a bit puzzled. Not that the playing wasn’t of the highest order; it was. But onstage, this amalgam of Chet and Merle, Jerry Reed, Michael Hedges and Jimi Hendrix, with a touch of Victor Borge, was a ball of energy; Only was rather subdued, much of it sitting comfortably in the “new age” category.

The solo acoustic Endless Road is an accurate representation of the Tommy Emmanuel concertgoers expect. He turns on the heat this time; even the ballads have more intensity, and the burners are almost as jaw-dropping as the live experience.

How Emmanuel does what he does is almost inexplicable – although playing for approximately 45 of his 50 years is a hint. Jazz great Martin Taylor is a few years younger, but got his start at approximately the same age, and while their styles differ, they both play on a similar, unimaginable level. And, like Taylor, Emmanuel’s technical ability is merely a means to an end; his musicality is even more impressive.

The Australian describes himself as a “melodic player,” which indeed he is – with most of the CD’s 19 tracks being instantly memorable originals. But he’s also a rhythmic player, with a power and sense of time that may actually take the Chet/Merle fingerpicking style a step further. His “(The Man With The) Green Thumb,” an ode to Chet and all the players he fostered, is a perfect example, as is “Chet’s Ramble” which Tommy recently finished from a tape of an incomplete tune Mr. Guitar sent him when they were recording The Day Fingerpickers Took Over The World.

But lest you think Emmanuel is merely a Chet devotee or a country player, that’s only a slice of what this CD serves up. And actually the more energetic selections, like the title track and “Tall Fiddler,” make the quieter moments, like Tommy’s beautiful renditions of “Over The Rainbow” and “Mona Lisa,” stand out even more. A true master.